


Fever

by inkreservoir



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 21:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkreservoir/pseuds/inkreservoir
Summary: Eichi has a fever. Keito spends the night at his house.





	Fever

_ on a stage at the edge of forever, the world an audience at diamond-studded feet, glittering so bright under the lights they might be blinding. a voice sings, so beautiful and so sweet it can't possibly belong to this throat, thorns and needles, strength and pain. bloodied footprints sketch out a tango, a waltz, not alone but at the end, ready to draw curtains closed on a long and drawn-out era, ready to sink knees deep and speak thank yous and sorries and i'm gratefuls and maybe this time it'll be differents. ready for a new pair of shoes, ready for a new type of dance, ready for something to change. closed eyes, outstretched arms, and maybe a step or two forward will goad wings from aching back. _

The pajamas aren't as comfortable as they should be. He was changed into a new pair that morning, but by the time the sun disappeared behind the horizon of tall buildings outside his window these ones were too hot too, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, shirt damp down the front and under his arms with sweat, pants too loose, soft fabric under the blanket too heavy. His hair is stringy, strands matted across his forehead, throat scratchy like another cough is lodged in it waiting for mouth to be pressed to his left sleeve again, like it doesn't have enough of his breath on it already. He shifts onto his side, studies the pale moonlit outline of the silhouette beside him for a moment, then reaches behind him and flicks on the light.

"Mmmh?"

It's just a normal fever this time, carted to the hospital this morning thanks to a servant's paranoia that sleeping in his bedroom instead of there would somehow make his illness worse. Probably, Eichi thinks, they just wanted to get rid of him. The hospital ran a thorough emergency check-up on him, though, and sent him home two hours and several shots later. Eichi suspects that they don't actually need to do all the kinds of checks they do every time he's sent there, but for the amount his family pays them, they probably think it's imperative to keep him longer than necessary so they're never questioned on whether they're actually doing anything. The fact Eichi is actually contagious for once wasn't enough to deter Keito from going with him to the hospital and deciding to spend the night at his house, insisting to Eichi he'd already been sick earlier that week and wouldn't contract another fever so quickly. His confidence is enviable if a little misguided, though Eichi wonders if perhaps he just feels guilty for refusing to miss a student council meeting and potentially passing his illness on to Eichi. The irony that the person who's always yelling at Eichi to rest won't miss a day of school for his health is just like Keito, but Eichi's amusement with his friend's hypocrisy can't outweigh his irritation, so despite the fact Keito made a point of staying nowhere near Eichi the entire time he was sick, Eichi refuses to reassure him. 

"Is something wrong?" Keito asks, his voice weighed down with almost-sleep but still full of concern. He rolls onto his side to face Eichi, the glow of the lamp illuminating him, but even with squinty bare eyes and disheveled hair he still looks so clean and dry that Eichi almost wishes he couldn't see him. 

"I don't know," Eichi mumbles, struggling to recall why he flipped the switch in the first place. The heat is unbearable. His cheeks must be flushed, his eyes must be red. He can feel the dry saliva crusting at the corner of his lips.

Keito's eyes fall shut and stay closed for a moment before snapping open again, desperately trying to stay awake for Eichi even as his lips pull into a forced scowl. 

Selfishly, Eichi shuffles himself a little closer, fishing below the blanket for Keito's hands. When his fingers find their purchase he guides them up slowly and rests Keito's cool palms against his neck, letting his eyes close, trying to enjoy the relief before his warmth inevitably makes them useless again.

"Oh," Keito realizes, adjusting himself more comfortably. "You feel like a hot water bottle."

It's not the most romantic comparison, but given that Keito's half asleep Eichi forgives him. Keito combs some of Eichi's hair from his neck, nails scraping lightly behind his ears, and if Eichi's hair weren't so greasy with sweat and oil the gesture would make him feel pretty. He groans at this thought, moving even closer to bury his face in Keito's neck, his own arms tucked between them. Keito stills for a moment but doesn't stop, not until he's pushed all of Eichi's hair back and settles his hands on Eichi's neck once more.

"I must smell so... bad," Eichi mourns quietly. He can't breathe through his nose well enough at the moment to confirm it, but he doesn't need solid evidence to know he smells like sweat and sick and breath already bad again even just having brushed his teeth. 

"You have a fever, Eichi," is his friend's mumbled response, apparently too tired to say something insulting. Eichi sighs, the cotton collar of Keito's shirt touching his chapped lip. Aware of his dehydration, Eichi reaches up again to pull Keito's hands away, and turns to take his glass of water from the nightstand. After three long, gratifying gulps, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Keito rubs his eye from where he lies, blinking as though to adjust to the lighting, though with his prescription his vision wouldn't focus on Eichi either way. That Keito can't actually see him releases some of the tension in Eichi’s neck, at least.

He puts the water down. "I guess I just..."

Eichi trails off. He was dreaming before, wasn't he? Something about shoes and lights so bright they might've been blinding. He raises his eyes to look at Keito between lashes, wishing he were in a different state, freshly washed hair and a different pair of pajamas and antiperspirant that actually stopped him from perspiring. He licks his upper lip to find the water didn't help much, longing for some artificial candy-scented lip balm but unsure he can get up without swaying on his feet and getting Keito actually worried. He opts to sigh again, and Keito moves to fumble for his glasses when Eichi's hand shoots out to grab his arm.

"Eichi?"

"Don't," he insists, but his resolve softens when Keito's eyebrows wrinkle together familiarly, and Eichi pushes his nose and cheek unceremoniously into his pillow. "I don't want you to see me." His voice comes out in a muffle.

"I've seen you through much worse," Keito points out, but he doesn't resist, relaxing into the mattress again.

Eichi doesn't need to tell him he hates it. He yawns, covering his mouth delicately with his hand and feeling ridiculous for it. Keito's eyes are open, watching him, sparkling green like dewy leaves in spring even in the dim yellow light of Eichi's lamp and the narrowness of his effort to see.

"Keito, I want you to just..." he says, and he cups Keito's cheek gently in his hand, feeling like maybe he should apologize, imagining the oils of his skin marring his friend's currently perfect complexion and feeling the twist of guilt in his stomach. He tries to ignore it, channel emperor, channel a star, back of his head whispering that the queen is the most powerful piece on a chessboard before he touches his sticky forehead to Keito's cool, smooth one and channels a little boy in too-hot pajamas trying to fight a fever with his ruthlessly kind, overprotective friend in his bed. It's not the right night to dream of the princess in the tower, long-haired guardian angel who tells stories by becoming them flying in through the window to rescue him from a life of tedium and repetition. Not like this, sweat-soaked and unsightly, lungs threatening to cough on Keito's lips at any given moment, too hot in all the wrong ways, Neverland so many stars away and feeling like no one's darling.

Keito is watching him as best as he can, no longer fighting with focus as Eichi's too close for it to matter either way. His eyes are clear, concerned, compassionate, and in them and Keito's silence Eichi can hear his friend's promise on his lips. "I'll give anything for your happiness," he seems to say. "So tell me what you want. Just say the word and I'll do everything in my power to give it to you."

"But," Eichi murmurs softly, and Keito's eyes flutter closed as he turns the light off again. "I want something even you can't give me."


End file.
